Darwinism
by truglasgowgal
Summary: After his father’s funeral, Chuck Bass disappeared. Most assumed he’d run away, escaped a society he could no longer tolerate. He created the perfect cover for his own abduction. Chuck, Eric centric. CB.
1. Prologue: Eric's Song

Hey!  
So, I KNOW I shouldn't be starting another multi-chapter fic, but I've been wanting to write this for some time now, and just haven't had the chance. I think my uni work and work-work should be calming down a wee bit in the next week or so, which will hopefully allow more time for updates across the board ;)

Hope you enjoy…

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**Title:** Darwinism  
**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but the plot, inexplicably saddening as that is ;)  
**Summary:** After his father's funeral, Chuck Bass disappeared. Most assumed he'd run away, escaped a society he could no longer tolerate. He created the perfect cover for his own abduction. Chuck, Eric centric. CB.

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"_Absence sharpens love, presence strengthens it.__"  
_**_Benjamin Franklin_**

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Prologue: Eric's Song

It's dark, so impossibly dark, both inside and out. He's not sure if that's intentional on their part, or just a simple act of nature.

The world keeps spinning after all.

He's lost track of how long he's been gone; it was bound to happen, he knows. Apparently he should've been counting the minutes, calculating the days, measuring the time that's passed to the nth degree. But, in truth, it's just too damn hard.

He's been gone for so long, _too long_, with no word, not even a murmur; and that's all he cares to know.

He bites back a hiss when the metal tears at his skin; blood rushing to the surface and bubbling out quicker than you'd think it could through scar tissue.

And he slumps to the floor; slides down the wall as his legs give way quickly beneath him almost in perfect sequence with the lacklustre lift of his other hand. His arms drop to his sides, wrists exposed, fingers splaying apart, and the sides of his legs feel wet already.

He closes his eyes, takes a breath, and tries to imagine life as it was before.

He hears shouts swirl somewhere in the air around him, but there's such a pounding in his ears, and it seems so far off anyway; it always does.

There's hands on his shoulders, fingers grasping his wrists, slipping in the torrent of blood he'd let loose with that first slice that dug deep and more than just nicked his artery.

There's a fog in front of his face, but he can make out his name on their lips, their eyes determined as they stare into his.

His brother's face swims before him, fills his vision with nothing but him, and he smiles; because really, that's what he's wanted all along: to be back with his brother once more.

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_"How swiftly we choose it  
The sacred simplicity  
Of you at my side."  
**'Eric's Song', Vienna Teng**_

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TBC...

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A/N: I'm quite the shameful lurker on random fan sites and a while ago I found this song posted on one – I think it was fanforum – and it just stuck with me. I can't remember who posted it, but if someone knows, then credit goes to them for helping strike some more inspiration in me to write and for finding the song and sharing it. I'll probably be using the lyrics in future chapters too, because it just fits the two of them, and what I have planned for this fic, so well – and it's such a hauntingly beautiful song.

Thanks for reading, and please let me know what you think. It means so much to me!  
Steph  
xxx


	2. Chapter 1: Blue Burns Orange

Apologies for the delay in updating, and for the length of the update – I'll try have longer updates in future, and not have as long a gap between posting each part

A/N: This, and subsequent chapters, takes place before the prologue.

Hope you enjoy…

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Chapter One: Blue Burns Orange

His cheeks are wet, and his eyelashes stick to the moisture his eyes bleed out.

Chuck coughs, and feels the pressure of the air around him rush into his lungs till they hit the parameters of his ribcage. His back is slick with sweat, and he groans as he leans forward, muscles aching as he separates himself from the leather beneath.

He pushes himself forward, doesn't even have a chance to realize he's lost his balance before his knees connect with the floor, palms slapping against a material not quite plush enough to shield the impact of bone against bone.

He coughs again, drags in a breath; impatiently tugs at his collar, because it is hot. So impossibly hot.

He slaps a palm against the divide and calls out to his driver; his tongue starves on the scorching air and his voice sounds hoarse as he croaks out his demand for answers.

The intercom crackles and when an answer finally comes his brow furrows, because it doesn't make any sense. His brain doesn't allow him time to process that before his arms rise and his fingers are pulling desperately to release the noose around his neck.

His heart hammers against his chest, and his stomach does flips and he turns his head to the side and throws up, all over the floor of his limo.

The stench makes his eyes water, the acid rotting at his teeth, the pungent air invading his senses so he can hardly think.

"What do you want with me?" he finally manages to get the words out; and they come out in a deep snarl.

He's bent forward, hunched on all fours, and when he twists his head to look up into the glass divide, eyes as dark as an animal preying on its kill; one would be forgiven for thinking him a feral beast.

But he's not.

He's just a boy.

A very rich boy.

And one with no family.

The pieces slip into place as the black leather interior of the car swims before him. He reaches out a hand to raise himself up, steady himself, but the edges of his world are fuzzy and he grasps at air. _Hot _air.

He chokes on his breath, the insides of his mouth ablaze, the concentrated black that surrounds him burning the backs of his eyelids.

And then he sees someone standing over him. Smiling.

His eyes narrow at the tiny emeralds twinkling above him in the darkness; like little green stars winking at him, as they're all being sucked into a black hole.

"Oh, now that would be telling," the voice finally replies, amusement morphing into laughter. "Wouldn't it, Charles?"

He lunges forward, bares his teeth, and wonders fleetingly if this animal that he appears to have become has simply been hibernating within him all these years, waiting to be unleashed. He grins like a devil at the thought; if it has been waiting, it picked a Hell of a time to come out and play.

There's a dull thud and a resounding crack and he can taste the copper of the blood in his mouth as his throat closes and he breathes for something that isn't there. He gasps, eyes shooting wide, and then the blurring of the world takes over.

He's vaguely aware of the pain as his eyes slide shut.

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His palms slap at his cheeks and he rubs furiously at his eyes.

Eric wills himself not to cry, screws his eyes shut tight and battles against the flurry of images that flash against the cocoon he's trapped himself in.

After a moment of heavy breathing, and muffled screams, his eyelashes unstick themselves and he can see once more.

See the bright light before him, shining right into the backs of his eyelids till he witnesses red dots dancing in front of him, and the memory of what he's striving for is burned into his memory.

_Stay in the light. Always. Stay in the light._

The voice in the back of his head is persistent, drums the words against his eardrums in perfect synergy with the dull thud of his heart against his ribcage, the beat of the blood pumping through his arteries.

He turns his head to the side and squints out at the Manhattan skyline that greets him.

Part of him wishes it'd crumbled to dust while he sought escape in slumber, that clouds of ash would roll by and obscure his perfectly picturesque view.

At least then he'd believe others actually felt the impact of his stepfather's death, if only a tremor of what had rippled its way through his family since the accident.

His sister is gone, his mother too, his brother also.

Ashes to ashes.

Dust to dust.

In a matter of days, all he has come to hold dear has disappeared into the unknown, leaving him to straddle the line of uncertainty once more.

But if he stays in the light, they'll find their way home, they'll find their way back to him.

If he stays in the light, he'll be their guide.

He'll be safe.

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_"Bleed these colours open wide_  
_Burning blues from butterflies_  
_(Tonight we, Tonight we fly)_  
_Flying faster through the night_  
_Until the orange of morning light  
__(Dear black goodbye, Dear black goodbye)."  
__'**Blue Burns Orange', Hawthorne Heights**_

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TBC…

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A/N: I hope this wasn't too confusing – I reckon this'll be the style of writing throughout the whole fic, though some parts may change depending on dialogue and whatnot.  
Also, the parallels – of sorts, at least – between Chuck and Eric is intentional.

I won't put a date on when the next update will be or the length of it. My uni workload, as well as my job, didn't quite die down as I'd hoped it would previously, so I'm not sure how much time I'll be able to dedicate to this or my other fics over the next couple of weeks before the holidays, but I'll try update as soon as I can.

Thanks for reading, and please let me know what you think – it means a lot!  
Steph  
xxx


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